


Trust Somebody

by ZhoraKys



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Angst and Romance, Car Chases, Established Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending, Gun Violence, Jigen Deserves Happiness 2k20, M/M, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhoraKys/pseuds/ZhoraKys
Summary: Jigen Daisuke is getting too old for this. Thievery and gun violence are one thing; but being secretly in love with your two closest friends can't be healthy, either.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke, Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130





	Trust Somebody

Jigen Daisuke lit his second cigarette in an hour and shook the match, watching the smoke curl from the spent head of it for a few seconds before tossing it out the driver's side window, into the dirt. 

The Fiat was parked in a stand of brush, just a few hundred metres off a service road that diverged from the freeway. With the kind of heat that was on their tail tonight, there was no way they'd fly under the radar in even the most backwater of towns, and the nearest reliable safe house was on the other side of a patrolled border. Trunk full of loot and weapons, they'd had no choice but to lay low overnight until Lupin could arrange for disguises and fake passports. 

They'd played Rock/Paper/Scissors to determine who got first watch. Jigen had handily thrown the match, having long ago figured out Lupin's usual pattern of flinching fakeouts and Goemon's tendency to choose scissors roughly 90 percent of the time. 

And now he was here, on first watch, staring through the windshield at the black foliage ahead, and glancing occasionally into the blackness that filled the rearview mirror. His cigarette was the only light. Well, that and the match he'd just burnt. He fingered his revolver and glanced at the rearview again.

Beside him, Lupin was snoring gently, his slight frame slumped in the passenger's seat, his left elbow nearly touching the gear shift. 

Goemon was splayed on the back seat, arms crossed over his chest inside the sleeves of his shirt, hakama draped around his skinny legs.

Both positions looked wildly uncomfortable, and Jigen was not looking forward to the muscle aches he was going to have tomorrow -- if he managed to get any sleep at all. 

He took a drag from the cigarette and brushed ash off his pant leg. 

Lupin breathed a sigh and for a moment Jigen thought he might awaken, but the thief only murmured something -- something that sounded suspiciously like _Fujiko_ \-- and shifted slightly.

Jigen frowned and crossed his arms, grinding the cigarette filter between his teeth. _Just what does he see in her, anyway?_

He knew the answer to that -- superficially, anyway. The woman had her charms, even Jigen could admit that. How else could one explain the droves of men -- and women, and otherwise, for that matter -- practically falling over themselves just for the chance to be swindled by her? 

Jigen would have growled had he not been conscious of letting the boys get their rest. 

They'd both performed admirably today, he thought. 

Though Lupin had technically recruited Jigen back in the day, Jigen was a few years older and as such often slipped into thinking of himself as the team mentor. And today Jigen was revelling in that bittersweet pride of seeing one's prodigy surpass one's own skill. Not a missed step. Perfectly in time. His revolver, Goemon's sword, Lupin's wit… _a beautiful ballet._

He allowed himself a lingering look at his partner. 

_Even sleeping… there's no way you look innocent._ Jigen broke into a silent smile. Lupin was an absolute scoundrel, an irredeemable troublemaker, even had the capacity to be a real asshole once in a while. 

_I wouldn't like you any other way._

Jigen shut his eyes, imagining, just for a second… no. He was getting sappy in his old age, kept thinking things he _shouldn't_ think, things that he had to brush away when they were running from the feds or dodging bullets or laying low in a beat-up car parked in the damn woods. It was just that, sometimes, Lupin would look at him a certain way, or he'd touch him on the arm, or grab his hand, or press up against him when they were in a tight spot and Jigen's heart would pound like he was brand new, like he hadn't lived half a lifetime doing this, chain smoking and mainlining scotch, because why not when your line of work was far more likely to kill you than your habits? 

He felt a lump forming in the back of his throat and he knew he'd arrived at the station on this particular train of thought where he'd remind himself that Lupin was just as vulnerable. Jigen was pushing forty and Lupin was, what, thirty-six, and that made them both too old for this shit and far too young to die.

 _I'd never forgive myself. Never._ Jigen looked at Lupin again. _Just once, though… I wish you'd open your fuckin eyes, Lupin. I… I…_

Jigen couldn't think it. His eyes were stinging now, and he couldn't let it get to that point. He cleared his throat, rather loudly, before remembering that he was in an enclosed space with two professional light sleepers.

Lupin seemed to stir for a moment, and Jigen tensed, but the thief only moaned and rolled over -- or at least, performed the closest thing to rolling over that was actually possible in the passenger's seat of a Fiat. 

Goemon, on the other hand, blinked awake and leaned forward, catlike, silent. 

"Is it my turn?"

Jigen checked his watch resignedly. "No. You've got another forty-five minutes. Go back to sleep."

Goemon studied Jigen in the rearview mirror. "Are you alright, Jigen?"

"Yes." Too quick. 

A beat. Goemon shrugged. "I know what it's like to be alone with your thoughts."

"Yeah, well, so do I. Go back to sleep, Goemon."

Goemon stared at Jigen for a few seconds more, then let himself relax back into the odd posture he'd been in moments before. Jigen watched the man through narrowed eyes until he was certain Goemon was asleep again. And it _was_ certain -- something in the expression, in the samurai's posture, changed almost imperceptibly; Goemon's lidded eyes fluttered and took on an almost feminine delicacy, his lips, so often drawn tight or pressed in concentration, hung slightly open, heavy and pink, in a way that Jigen found almost… 

_Aw, fuck._

Jigen turned his gaze away from his partners in crime and stared resolutely out the window, shooting daggers from his eyes and blowing smoke out his nostrils. Jigen tried to think about the last baseball game he'd seen; he tried to do algebra in his head; he took himself through the mental steps of disassembling, cleaning, and re-assembling his gun; he thought of Goemon, kneeling in front of him on some dirty floor, wrists tied behind his back, lips wet with saliva, those dark eyes staring up at Jigen from under lusty black eyelashes, _begging…_

_God! Dammit!_

_I can't just be happy, can I?_ Jigen thought sullenly. It wasn't exactly a dry spell. When you got yourself into the underworld as deep as they were, it was not only tough but downright dangerous to relate to anyone outside of whatever little circle you created for yourself. They were all grown men. Jigen knew what he liked, and Lupin didn't care so long as he was getting some. Whether that was from Fujiko or Jigen well… Jigen liked to pretend it didn’t matter to the thief, though he knew full well it did. 

That was one thing. But Goemon was a mystery to Jigen. One that Jigen had at first been determined to unravel or at least debunk, watching the samurai go about his business, moving through every aspect of his life with the skill and efficiency of something finely programmed. At a point, the determination had become exasperation, which had given way to a nebulous _wanting,_ a deepening desire to _know_ Goemon in a way that increasingly seemed impossible. 

And now, well… he and Lupin had been so _busy_ lately, and… things had fallen by the wayside a bit, but Goemon… Goemon was so _beautiful…_

Jigen spent the next 45 minutes fuming, drawing himself into such a fugue state that he didn't realize the watch was over until he heard Goemon cough from the back seat and looked up into the mirror to see the samurai's dark eyes staring back at him. A little unnerving, really. 

"Right on time," said Jigen, unable to keep the astonishment from his voice. "You learn that trick from a ninja or something?"

"As a matter of fact--"

"Oh for… look, just get your ass into the driver's seat so I can get some rest."

Lupin stirred again, making Jigen feel a pang of regret for the outburst. Lupin didn't wake up. Jigen relaxed.

He eased himself out of the seat, opening the door as slowly and silently as possible, then stood, stretching, relishing the cool night air in contrast to the stale air of the cramped Fiat, which smelled vaguely of engine oil and sweat.

"You seem tense, Jigen. Is there cause for concern?"

 _You bet your… fucking gorgeous ass there is_ , Jigen thought. "No," he said. "Quiet as the grave out here. Haven't heard so much as a bat."

"Good."

"You uh… you get some sleep?"

"My rest was adequate. Thank you."

"Yeah… don't sweat it." Jigen fumbled with the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket while he maneuvered himself past Goemon and into the back seat.

He fell asleep with an unlit cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. 

*****

In the morning, he found the cigarette not on the floor or pressed into the rumpled fabric of his trousers, but placed neatly on the seat next to him. Weak sunlight was already filtering through the tree branches overhead, but the overcast tint of the sky cast the whole scene in stark, cold, gunmetal grey. Jigen shifted and groaned as his neck and shoulders protested. 

"Up and at 'em," said Lupin from the front seat. The thief was in the process of pulling the foil wrap off of some sort of shelf-stable pastry. Jigen figured that was what had woken him up. His stomach made itself known, loudly. 

"You got another one of those?"

Lupin tossed him a small square packet from the glove compartment. 

"Where's Goemon?" Asked Jigen after taking a bite. The pastry -- a nondescript white sponge cake -- was dry and overly sweet. Jigen could feel a thin film collecting on his teeth as he chewed. 

"Went to take a piss," said Lupin with his mouth full. "Actually… speak of the devil."

"Good morning, Jigen," said Goemon with the briefest of smiles as he climbed back into the passenger's seat. 

Jigen nodded at the samurai, holding eye contact a little too intensely for fear of accidentally looking somewhere else. Goemon met his gaze, seeming quite unaffected. 

"I guess I may as well get up and stretch while I can, eh?"

"Yep. Prepare yourself, men! We're headed for the border, and we're _not_ taking the freeway, so if there's any business you need to conduct, do it now."

Jigen nodded and cleared his throat, leaving the Fiat for a tangle of bushes downhill and out of sight, though close enough that he'd be able to hear the engine, or a gunshot. 

Intending to piss against the nearest tree and be done with it, he swore under his breath as he found his thoughts inevitably drifting to the same image of Goemon that he'd conjured up last night, only this time Lupin was also there, and both their hands were all over Jigen and…

_Jesus Christ, I need to get laid._

He swore again, louder this time, and decided that "business" as per Lupin's wording, could reasonably include surreptitiously rubbing one out to avoid having to spend half the car ride hiding a boner. 

The gunman flicked through mental images as he gripped himself, one hand steadying himself against the tree trunk. _Lupin's face, flushed as he writhed in pleasure against Jigen. Lupin's mouth, a sweet little "O" around Jigen's cock._ The gunman's breath caught and he squeezed his eyes shut as he thought of Goemon, wielding Zantetsuken with masterful ease, the blade as it penetrated flesh, stone, car, boat, airplane, all like driving a knife through butter. The samurai's expression as he dispatched their enemies with deadly accuracy. What else could that sword do? Or undo? Jigen liked this suit, but he could buy another. The sharpness of the blade, singing against his bare skin, close enough to cut but held back, Goemon's utter control -- and that, the man was _so_ very controlled. What would he look like, completely unravelled? Driven half-mad with desire, with _lust_? Hard and tense and pleading for Jigen, that authoritative voice reduced to a whimper--

Jigen came, hard, spattering the tree trunk with semen, his hand jerking once, twice, then gripping his still pulsing cock until he could breathe again. He willed himself to remain standing and finish his "business", then returned to the Fiat, trying not to look too boneless, hoping he'd been fast enough not to arouse suspicion.

The other men seemed unfazed. Lupin was smiling, blowing smoke rings out the window, and Goemon had his eyes closed, apparently deep in meditation. Jigen thought of disturbing the man to take back his place at shotgun, but somehow he didn't feel like getting into it with Goemon at that exact moment. He settled into the back seat, and leaned forward to grab the half-finished cigarette out of Lupin's hand. 

*****

The drive was uneventful until just after the border crossing. They'd stopped to change clothes, review the set of fake passports they were using for the routine inspection, and change the license plates on the Fiat. All that had gone off without a hitch. 

They were about an hour away from the town where the safehouse was, when Lupin looked at Jigen in the rearview and said, low and calm, "The black car behind us."

Jigen tensed up immediately. He glanced into the mirror and saw a jet black sedan tailing them at a steady 10-metre distance. The car had its high-beams on in the daylight, ( _bold fucking move, that_ ) obscuring their view of the license plate and its occupants. 

"Fuck."

"Is it cops?" Asked Goemon.

Lupin shook his head. "They'd be making a lot more noise. Whoever this is is after the money, and I'm guessing they could care less about leaving us intact enough to make an arrest."

"Let me try to take out their front tires."

"Not yet, Jigen. Wait until they get closer."

"Closer? Are you kidding me? They're on our asses! And the longer we let them tail us the bigger the chance that they'll find the safehouse too."

"Give me... two minutes."

Jigen looked at Lupin. They made momentary eye contact in the mirror. It was enough. Lupin had a plan, and Jigen trusted him implicitly. Jigen's fingers curled around his revolver. He'd wait for the signal, whatever that might be.

The moment was broken by the sound of a bullet ricocheting off their rear fender. 

“Shit!”

Lupin slammed on the gas and the Fiat jerked violently under the force of its own acceleration. Jigen looked ahead and saw that the road curved sharply to the right about a hundred feet ahead of them, disappearing behind a rocky outcropping of land -- a hazardous blind corner. Lupin shifted gears, the clunk of the stick shift fading into the red buzz of the engine.

They came up on the bend. 

"Hang on," Lupin urged through gritted teeth. He flung the steering wheel to the left, keeping his foot planted firmly on the gas. The Fiat screeched around the corner and rattled frightfully, its compact chassis not designed for such strain. Jigen noticed that Goemon was gripping the dashboard with white knuckles, Zantetsuken clenched between his knees. 

"They'll hear us!" Yelled Goemon over the racket.

"Doesn't matter! They won't have time to stop," Lupin hollered back. "And if they do, they'll be sitting ducks anyway!"

To their left, separated from the road by a thin metal and concrete barrier, was dense, moss-green forest. 

Lupin slammed on the brakes and the car let out another awful wail of protest as he spun the wheel frantically in the opposite direction. Jigen had his gun out of its holster now and was holding onto his hat with his other hand, one foot hooked into the back of the front seat to stop himself from smashing into the side door as the g-force of the turn pulled him across the banquette. 

"NOW!" 

The black sedan whizzed around the bend.

Jigen had a split second to squint through the windshield before he and Lupin opened fire simultaneously. He thought he could see surprise on the driver’s face. 

Unlike the Fiat, the sedan was not fully bulletproof. The first volley of shots went right through the windshield, and Jigen saw two figures slump against the steering wheel behind the aura of the high-beams. Two more in the back.

The sedan skittered to a halt, scraping against the barrier. The air filled with the smell of hot oil and brake fluid. Jigen kicked open the rear door of the Fiat and crouched low under the window -- just in time. Machine gun fire clattered back at them, sharpening the burning smell.

In one wildly acrobatic maneuver Lupin dragged himself out of the driver’s seat and through the rear door, pressing himself shoulder-to-shoulder against Jigen and peeking his head up through the window, the barrel of his Walther poking up beside his right ear.

“Fucking cowards!” He hollered. “This is our money now! If you wanted it, you should’ve gotten your shit together and beaten us to the punch! You think you can just take the easy way out now? You don’t have a fucking clue!”

Jigen felt the Fiat jiggle and realized that Goemon had left the passenger’s seat. The sound of Zantetsuken being pulled from its hilt rang like a bell.

“All’s fair in war,” called a gruff, unfamiliar voice from the direction of the sedan. Another volley of gunfire ensued.

 _Goemon…_ Jigen strained but couldn’t see anything without putting himself in harm’s way.

_Fuck._

“Buddy, this isn’t a war! This is _your_ funeral!”

Jigen drew in a breath, glanced at Lupin, and nodded. _I know you trust me. I won’t make a fool out of you._

He stood at once, rocketing into an upright stance, and began firing almost blindly. He’d nearly emptied his clip by the time his brain registered and processed the scene. Two dead in the front, a third fallen near the rear door. Goemon on top of the car having apparently plunged Zantetsuken through the roof and probably a fourth person’s head.

Jigen breathed. Then he heard a shot that didn’t come from next to him.

The sound of a bullet hitting metal. A bright flash.

Goemon yowling like a cat in heat.

Another shot. This one, Jigen would later realize, came from his own gun.

A fifth man falling onto the back of the car. _Had he come from inside the trunk?_

Jigen looked up and saw a bloom of red spreading on Goemon's hakama. He rushed forward. 

"We’re safe," the samurai said, his breathing ragged.

"But _you're_ fucking not! You're hit in the leg! Get down from there." Jigen's voice sounded far away and muffled, like it was coming from ten feet underwater, instead of inside his own head. 

"Jesus Christ, Jigen, shut the hell up and go find the kit in the trunk." Lupin helped Goemon down from the roof of the sedan. The samurai pulled Zantetsuken free from the roof, flicking droplets of blood onto the asphalt as he did.

Jigen eyed the Fiat. It was so far away…

He looked back at Goemon stepping gingerly onto the road and felt a surge of adrenaline. In one movement that he would never be able to replicate, he scooped up the samurai in two arms and straightened, carrying him across the road and back to the Fiat. Lupin opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head and simply followed. 

"We need to get off this road," said Jigen. 

"No problem! No _fucking_ biggie." Lupin bit his lip and lowered his voice. "Get the kit and get him in the backseat. Find me one of those grenades that we hid earlier.”

Jigen let Goemon support himself on his shoulder as he sat down in the back seat. “You good? Lay flat. I’ll… I’ll be right back.” But he just stood there and watched as Goemon eased himself into a lying position on the banquette. 

“Jigen?”

“Huh. Right.”

Five minutes later Lupin was behind the wheel, pushing the Fiat as fast as it would legally go, while Jigen sat in the back seat with Goemon's legs propped up over his lap. They’d left the sedan in flames, a black, twisted skeleton belching smoke that would alert authorities to the tragic engine explosion that the road crews would eventually be called to clean up. 

Goemon’s hakama were blood-soaked at a spot on the upper calf, just below the knee. Jigen swallowed hard as he rolled up the fabric, his calloused hands running over Goemon’s leg. 

The wound… actually wasn't that bad, all things considered. A grazing blow, deep enough to need a couple stitches, but the bullet itself hadn't been at the right angle to penetrate.

Goemon's blood soaked hot into Jigen's trousers, but Jigen didn't care. He looked at Goemon and gave the samurai a wan smile. "No problem. You'll walk again."

Goemon gave a rough little laugh and Jigen's stomach turned over, unleashing a warmth that shimmered through his chest like the first sip of a fine champagne. 

From the little black leather kit next to him, Jigen pulled a small bottle of disinfectant and some gauze. He steadied himself, then poured out enough disinfectant to wet the wound, catching the runoff of diluted blood with the gauze. Goemon's face twitched imperceptibly, but he held control. 

"How's it going back there?" Asked Lupin. The fact that he _could_ ask was reassuring; the immediate danger of pursuit was past. 

"Fine, fine," said Jigen, pressing fresh gauze into the wound to staunch the bleeding. "My reputation as a field surgeon stands."

Lupin laughed. "Surgeon? Awfully charitable. Maybe… hm… butcher would be more apt?"

"Don't insult a man when he's holding a sewing needle, Loopy. Good way to lose an eye."

Lupin waved a hand but Jigen could see his smile in the rearview. Something tightened in his chest.

"Goemon," he said, biting his lip to focus on drawing up the suture. "This is going to hurt a bit."

“Pain is in the mind.” Goemon winced as Jigen pulled a suture through. “You… _ah_ … you saved my life, Jigen.”

“Of course I fucking did. We’re partners.”

For a long time Jigen said nothing, trying to remember the mattress stitch he'd learned in basic, way back in the academy. His tongue stuck out slightly. The word hit him, finally.

 _Partners._ It was so easy to say it about Goemon, about Lupin. _Business partners, Jigen. Don’t go getting sappy now._

_But…_

_No!_

_But it was so easy to say it._

_These are my life partners, Lupin and Goemon, and they’re both cop-killers and common crooks._

"Done," he said. 

Goemon made to swing his legs back into a seated position. 

"Oh, no you don't," said Jigen, grabbing him by the ankles. "You've got to keep this elevated."

Jigen thought Goemon might struggle, but the samurai only sighed and closed his eyes. The man's legs were warm, and felt strong even in Jigen's lap. Jigen felt that warmth in his chest and stomach again, then looked up to see that Lupin was staring at him in the rearview.

"Eyes on the road, Loopy," said Jigen quietly. 

*****

It was dark again when they arrived at the safehouse. Though Goemon insisted he was fine, Lupin and Jigen won out and helped him into the building, one of the samurai's arms slung around each of their shoulders.

They let Goemon stretch out on the couch -- Jigen took the armchair and Lupin stood and paced. 

“We never found out who those goons were, did we?”

“Nope.” Lupin stopped pacing and grinned. “Maybe they were just trying to ask for directions.”

Jigen laughed in spite of himself and shook his head. “That’s fucking awful, man.” He figured the thief would dig in his heels and make some even _more_ awful joke, but Lupin’s face only softened slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I oughta grow up, huh? I’m getting too old to be making jokes like that, aren’t I?”

“And I’m getting too old to listen to ‘em.”

Silence descended on the three of them for a moment. Lupin stood with his hands in his pockets, looking back at Jigen, his expression almost a smile, but otherwise inscrutable. Then, quite suddenly, the thief strode over to the armchair and took Jigen’s face in his hands, pressing a kiss to the gunman’s half-open lips. 

“Not too old for that, though,” said Lupin quietly, still holding Jigen’s face. Jigen could only shake his head between the thief’s hands. 

Lupin straightened with a smile, and cleared his throat. Jigen thought suddenly that it was as if he was putting on a mask. 

“I told Fujiko I’d give her a call when we got back here. I’ll be in the bedroom… don’t wait up!”

Jigen stared blankly at the floor as Lupin left the room, feeling utterly drained by the day. Soon enough the thief’s muffled voice came through the bedroom door. 

Goemon shifted on the couch, turning his body toward Jigen. The two men looked at each other for a moment, Jigen afraid to say anything in case he trampled whatever the samurai was building up to. He’d grown accustomed to the samurai’s way of physically indicating that he had something to say, often _long_ before he’d actually chosen the words.

But Goemon said nothing for several minutes, and finally Jigen shifted nervously and said, “what?”

“I… I wanted to thank you. For saving me today.”

“You already did.”

Another long pause.

“You seem… sad.”

Jigen tensed. “Well I… you don’t look great either, Goemon, all laid up on the couch like that.”

“Jigen.”

“...Goemon?”

“I want…” the samurai seemed to struggle. He swallowed and began again. “I thought... for a second, I thought that I might die today.”

“Happens, in this line of work.”

“It is… unseemly, for a samurai to die with… regrets. It speaks to potential unfulfilled, a life not lived dutifully. Tasks left unfinished.”

Jigen opened his mouth and closed it again. _Now’s not the time for a quip._

“When I thought I might die, I found myself struck with a single regret.”

Jigen stared at Goemon. The samurai’s gaze was piercing, blinding like the highbeams of that sedan. Jigen felt something pull in his throat, the corners of his eyes stinging like he might cry. _Jesus, man, get a grip._

He stood and walked the three steps to the couch, kneeling in front of Goemon, leaning in so their faces were close. 

“What… what was it? What did you regret?”

Goemon’s voice was barely a whisper. “I regretted… not… doing this.” The samurai, still prone, curled toward Jigen so their noses brushed. Jigen’s eyes widened for a second, then he shut them instinctively. He felt a whisper of Goemon’s breath over his cheek, and then soft lips pressed gently against his own. For a moment, neither of them moved. The sound of Lupin’s voice in the other room could have been miles away for all Jigen cared. Then Goemon pushed, just a little more, insisting, and Jigen slid his fingers back, tangling them in the samurai’s thick black hair, and pressed their faces together, letting his lips open slightly, just enough to taste the other man on the tip of his tongue. 

They parted with a gasp, Jigen staring in awe at Goemon as the samurai blushed deep red, his eyes catching Jigen’s before flicking away. 

Jigen’s mind raced. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know _how._ Words were meaningless, just vague noise in an endless ocean of sound. He swallowed, his breathing fast. When he finally found the ability to speak, it was just one word.

“M-me?”

Goemon looked back at him, face still pink. 

“You… you regretted not making out with _me_? Not… not Fujiko, or, or Lupin, or… I don’t know, fucking Pops? _Me?_ ”

“Is that… really so hard to believe?”

“Y-I mean… no. Well… I mean, I guess… yes?” Jigen was turning red, now, and he pulled the brim of his hat instinctively lower over his eyes. “I’m not… I’m not the, uh, eye candy. In our little group.”

Goemon was silent for a moment. Jigen stared into the dark brim of his hat, feeling his eyes sting again. Then he heard laughter -- a beautiful, bell-like peal of laughter, coming from the _beautiful_ samurai lying in front of him. Jigen looked up. Goemon shifted into a seated position, and Jigen had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around Goemon’s waist and nestle into the space between the samurai’s thighs, like a child. 

“Eye candy? Do you think that’s what I’m interested in, Jigen- _chan?_ ”

Jigen had heard the _-chan_ suffix attached to his name once or twice, but it was usually derisive; mocking. When Goemon said it, it sounded like music. It sounded like home, like hot tea and strong whiskey, like a crisp new suit, tobacco burning in an heirloom pipe. 

_Fuck._

“I… I’ve grown fond of you, Jigen. I respect you. I… I trust you. With my life.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“We all have to trust _somebody,_ ” said Goemon, holding Jigen’s gaze.

For a moment, Jigen’s body was full of that old fight, part of him bleeding and weeping and reaching out for comfort; the other part of him pulling away, isolating, scorning the weakness of that need. Then, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, the _weakness_ won. Jigen’s heart swelled to bursting as he locked his fingers together behind Goemon’s back and pulled himself close, so his face was against the samurai’s warm stomach, shoulders pleasantly squeezed between the man’s legs. 

Goemon drew Jigen’s chin up with a finger, and Jigen followed as if lighter than air. He grabbed handfuls of Goemon’s loose shirt as he dragged himself upward, until their faces were close; too close; now pressed together, Jigen tasting Goemon in his own mouth, humming with perfect, untainted delight. 

A moment or an hour could have passed for all Jigen cared about the world outside, but pass it did, and their kiss was abruptly interrupted by Lupin emerging from the bedroom and starting to say, “Okay guys, how about we--”

“Oh. Ohhh.” 

The thief cleared his throat. Jigen didn’t look back. The silly grin that was plastered to his face was _all_ for Goemon, and he’d be damned if he was going to let Lupin see it.

“Uh, actually… on second thought, I think there was one more thing that I forgot to tell Fujiko about.”

Goemon’s eyes widened. Jigen, still grinning like an idiot, turned just in time to see the thief _leap_ to grab the phone, already stifling a laugh.

“LUPIN!”


End file.
